


Elephants and Oxpeckers

by Opalalchemy



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4803494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalalchemy/pseuds/Opalalchemy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were originally thought to be an example of mutualism, but recent evidence suggests that oxpeckers may be parasites instead. The story of two girls fate has tied together at the wrist. SI/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Babopbye Ya

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Catch Your Breath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1893351) by [Liangnui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liangnui/pseuds/Liangnui). 
  * Inspired by [Déjà vu no Jutsu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018305) by [Vixen_Tail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen_Tail/pseuds/Vixen_Tail). 
  * Inspired by [Iryo-nin Kasa (医療忍傘)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/815772) by [Vaengir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaengir/pseuds/Vaengir). 



Elephants and Oxpeckers

Disclaimer- I don’t own

_No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption produced by slavery._

_~ Harriet Ann Jacobs_

We are not friends. She thinks we are, but as of today I know we will never be anything as innocent as friends. It’s not her fault. She’s six years old. A child. I’m a child too. Sort of. Half a child, maybe? I’m certainly no longer an adult. My body is three years old, small and tiny. Kushina’s a full head and a half taller than me. She’s holding my hand and chatting happily about her day. I’m lying on my futon. Too weak to sit up properly. Kushina thinks I was sick today. But I’m not the one that’s sick. Everyone else is sick. I’m the symptom of a disease. They are the virus infecting me. And Kushina…Kushina is the worst of them all. A parasite that has latched on to me and will never let go. _It’s not her fault. She’s a child, she doesn’t understand. She’s not the one who did this._ But it is her fault. If she hadn’t decided to be my friend, my sempai, my nee-chan, I would be free. _You don’t know that._ The seal placed over my heart is heavy. My arms are heavy. My eyes are heavy. I close them and the blood red of Kushina’s hair is replaced with darkness.

I don’t know how I came to be in this strange place. This fictional world. Perhaps I died. I like to think I didn’t. That my real body is asleep in my bed with my cat curled up next to me. That this is all just a dream triggered by too many fanfictions and a little bit of alcohol. But this new reality isn’t a dream. I have always had some control over what happens in my dreams. If I don’t like something I simply acknowledge it isn’t real and change it. I don’t have any control in this place. If I did, I would never have allowed them to do this to me.

When I open my eyes the woman who rebirthed me is leaning over me, stroking my hair and humming softly. An unknown emotion bubbles in my chest. I roll over onto my side, turned away from her. _Go away. I don’t want to see you ever again._ She doesn’t go away. Instead she gently, lovingly, annoyingly coaxes me into sitting up. A comb runs through my long plum colored strands, followed by my not-mother weaving two braids.

“You have a big day ahead of you with the hime, Emako-chan.” Kushina is hardly a princess, but she’s the closest Uzushio has to one. “It’s a great honor to have been chosen for this responsibility. You’re the first to receive the seal since the time of the Warring Clans.” The time of the Warring Clans was really not that long ago. Only forty years since Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara made peace and ushered in the new era. I jerk away from not-mother’s hands and rush into the small bathroom I share with my not-parents and the other servants. She is a dog, this woman who is not my mother. My not-father too. Happy little yapping dogs who cheerfully follow and obey their master. My real parents would never have allowed this to happen to me. They would have protected me. They wouldn’t have been _happy_. A knock interrupts my thoughts.

“Hurry up, Emako-chan. Uzumaki-dono wants to see you before you go play with Kushina-hime.”

I don’t know the full name of the Uzumaki clan head. If I did I’d curse it in a million different ways. It is his fault, really. Not Kushina’s. He is the one who put this horrid seal on me. I need to keep Kushina away from him. He isn’t a good influence. He’ll fill her head with horrible things and teach her to treat people like— I bite my lip hard. The brief flare of pain clears my thoughts.

Not-father is the one to present me to Uzumaki-dono. I hold his hand tightly despite my dislike of him. Together we bow, far lower than the man deserves. After a brief squeeze of my shoulders, not-father leaves the room to attend to his duties leaving me alone with this monster of a man. Uzumaki-dono is a giant, and not just because I am a small three year old. He is easily seven feet tall and large muscles are recognizable even under his heavy formal kimono. His blood red hair is tied neatly and his sharp eyes pierce through me as we observe each other.

“You’ve adapted well to the seal, Nanai-kun. Your strong _constitution_ and will are a credit to you and your family.” I was not entirely sure what _constitution_ meant. Three years was not nearly enough time to become fluent in the language of the Elemental Countries.

“Thank you, Uzumaki-dono.” The big man smiles at me. If I hadn’t known what a monster he is I would have thought it was a nice smile. Warm and welcoming.

“You have been chosen for a great and honorable responsibility. Although you are barely out of infancy you have displayed the intelligence and maturity of a child thrice your age. I have no doubt you will grow well into your role as protector and companion for my niece. The seal I have placed upon you is merely to ensure that your strong will shall never fail. The seal will support you through difficult times to help you perform your duty. Although the burden I laid upon you yesterday is heavy the burden my niece will one day carry is even heavier. We must all do our part to ensure she is not crushed by the demon’s weight. The Nanai have faithfully served the Uzumaki for five generations but never before has a Nanai received the Puppet Seal. Your sacrifice shall be honored by the clan. You, your children and your children’s children shall be honorary kin to the Uzumaki. We shall protect you as if you were our kin. We shall train you as if you were our kin. And we shall die for you as if you were our kin for as of today you are our kin.” With that said Uzumaki-dono gives a shallow bow. When he straightens a large grin is on his face that is quite like Kushina’s when she is exceptionally cheerful. He lifts me onto his back and practically bounces into the hallway.

“Let’s go find Kushina-chan! I’m sure you’re quite eager to play and train together!” His voice boomed loudly. Kushina and Naruto, it seems, are not the only loud and boisterous Uzumaki. It must be a family trait.

I grasp his collar tightly as he picks up speed. The world around us blurs. With the wind in my face it almost feels like flying. A giggle escapes me. I don’t want it to, but it does. I want to be angry. To shout and scream at this man. To throw a tantrum like the child I am. But I was rarely one to get overly emotional in my last life and it is a habit that has carried over into this new one. I learned long ago that sometimes it is better not to feel anything at all. Not numbness. Numbness is a mistake I wish to never repeat again. Neutral. Yes, a neutral state of being. There are a lot of negatives about my new circumstances. But there are some positives too. They don’t quite balance out, but for now I can pretend they do. I can pretend to not feel strongly for or against the seal on my heart. It wouldn’t be fair to Kushina to think any differently about it. She’s a child. I need to protect her.

The world is no longer blurry. We have stopped. He has brought me to the Uzumaki private training grounds. There are five children of various ages, all older and bigger and stronger with red red hair. But I only have eyes for Kushina. Her knees are skinned and her left hand is wrapped in a bandage that was not there yesterday. Her face is red from the effort of throwing the shuriken lodged into the wooden post. Her smile is as bright as the sun when she sees us.

“Ojisan! ’mako-chan! You’re here-ttebanne!” Uzumaki-dono lowers me to the ground and we rush to each other, arms reaching. Kushina envelopes me in a tight hug and I hug back because that is what she wants. When she lets go I turn back to the monster. I think about something good. My sister and I laughing as we play in the lake. I smile and bow in respect.

“Thank you for brining me to Kushina-neechan, Uzumaki-dono.” He puts a hand to my head and ruffles my hair.

“None of that now, Emako-kun. We are kin. Shoto is fine.”

Thank you, Shoto-dono.” The man sighs and slumps his shoulders.

“Well, we’ll work on that. Now you two get training so you can be strong.”

“We will, dattebane!” With a swirl of leaves Shoto is gone.

“Hey, Kushina-chan, who’s the baby?” One of the boys ask. He looks to be about nine or ten. He is the only one with a Whirlpool headband.

“This is Emako-chan, my kohai! She’s gonna train to be shinobi!” Except I don’t want to be a shinobi. I don’t mind fighting and dying for my country. For the people I love. But this isn’t my country. These aren’t my people. Going down this path, I will be forced to fight in at least two wars. The very thought of war sends terror filled shivers down my spine. But there’s another thought that scares me more. Peace. What will they have me do during peacetime? It’s one thing to kill during a war when adrenaline is pumping and it’s kill or be killed, it’s another thing entirely to sneak through the shadows and assassinate a human being for monetary gain. _Thou shall not kill._ Those words are seared into my brain. After three years of Ten Commandment pop quizzes, how could they not be? Murder is a mortal sin. I’ll be damned to Hell if I go through with this. Paralyzing panic creeps up my throat. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be a shinobi. I feel a sharp pang in my chest and the image of Kushina and Minato impaled by Kyuubi’s claw flutters through my head. I clutch and tug at Kushina’s sleeve.

“Teach me, nee-chan.”


	2. Biting Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emako contemplates irony. Kushina gets angry. And Bunta is a meanie.

_Honesty is the first chapter of the book of wisdom. ~Thomas Jefferson_

My birthday must be some kind of cosmic joke. All Saints Day. Day of the Dead. Samhain. I just had to be reborn on November 1st. Not that that particular date has any significance whatsoever in this place. Still, I think there must be a joke hidden somewhere. Even if I’m the only one who gets it. At least I wasn’t reborn on Halloween, though it was a close thing. I was reborn a half hour after midnight. My not-mother absolutely delights in guilt tripping my not-father with descriptions of the eighteen hours she spent in labor bringing me into this world while he was off on a fishing trip, blissfully unaware. My memories of those early days of infancy are hazy. Thank God. It was only around age two-two and a half that I really became aware of myself. I’m pretty sure that my new body doesn’t just limit my physical capabilities but my mental and emotional capabilities as well. For example, object permanence. For the typical infant, once something disappears from their sight it no longer exists. Hence, why babies get such a kick out of peek-a-boo. It’s not until around twenty-four months that children fully understand the idea that just because an object is hidden it doesn’t mean it’s gone. Of course, my infancy wasn’t exactly typical. Though my memories of that time are indistinct, I do recall a time not-mother hid a comb under a pillow in our quarters and urged me to find it. I saw her hide it. I knew the object wasn’t gone. I vaguely recalled playing this same game with some toddlers when I’d been a woman grown and giggling at the confused looks on their chubby faces. My brain couldn’t connect the dots. Not-mother had a comb. She put it under a pillow. The comb was gone but the pillow was still there. From my past memories I knew that if I picked the pillow up I would find something there, but I couldn’t remember what that thing would be. It was an incredibly frustrating experience and one of the few times I’ve ever given in to a temper tantrum. I cried and cried until my throat was raw and then I whimpered pitifully as not-mother took me into her arms and rocked me, humming a song to calm me down. I remember thinking as her melody lulled me to sleep that this woman was too small to be my mother. Her skin was too pale and her stomach too flat. But she hummed the same way my mother did and that was enough to ease the ache in my chest.

On a happier note, there are several advantages to having a child’s brain that I am happily exploiting. Math had been my biggest academic weakness in my last life, barely receiving a passing mark throughout my school career. I know that the sooner I understand basic calculations and spatial reasoning and whatever else, the easier time I will have performing and understanding the more complicated concepts. Every night and morning, while I do any and every stretch I can remember from before, I quiz myself on basic factoids until they become second nature. Reinforcement of neural pathways, and all that. It’s boring but I force myself to do it. Practicing with Kushina is much more interesting. She’s really quite bright for a six year old. I made memory and match cards filled with arithmetic and some of the simpler multiplication and made up games to go with them so Kushina would practice with me. Before long she started making up her own games, and they all somehow incorporated shinobi training. “Okay, dattebanne! Whatever the answer is, that’s how many times we have to pass the kunai without dropping it!” By pass she meant throw, catch, and throw it back while running around the training ground. Thank God the kunai are dull. The most complicated of the games is called “pin the butterfly” and requires all five Uzumaki kids plus me. Dozens of equations on pieces of paper are scattered randomly around the training ground with their answers on separate cards of paper, also scattered randomly. Four of us run around as fast as we can, matching equations to the right answer and the person who collects the most correct matches wins. It’s the job of the two kids not collecting equations to chase and try to pin us to the ground. If you get pinned you get one chance to answer a riddle or say a tongue twister, do it wrong and you lose all your cards. Kushina and I always lose. Me because I’m the youngest and have the least training and Kushina because she tends to pick up cards randomly and hope for the best. I’m convinced the only reason Kushina’s math has improved by leaps and bounds is because of her highly competitive nature. She hates losing and she’s declared her “mission” for the next year is to beat Shotomaru, the oldest of the Uzumaki kids and reigning champion. Shoto calls “pin the butterfly” an interesting scavenger hunt mixed with evasion training. He ruffled all our heads when he found us playing it and praised our creativity and work ethic. Kushina squeezed my hand and beamed happily at the praise and Shotomaru grinned toothily at his father’s attention.

Shotomaru is ten years old, a newly minted genin, and Shoto’s only surviving child and heir. I’m not sure what happened to his siblings, though I’m willing to bet it was bloody. Like most Uzumaki he is loud and obnoxious. He also loves edamame and anmitsu, dodging whirlpools in his sailboat, and is the first person Kushina goes to when she wants to pull a prank and needs an alibi. It’s painful to think a sweet, gregarious boy like Shotomaru might die on the battlefield before he even enters puberty. The commonality of child soldiers is one of the aspects I dislike the most about my new life. But now I am training to become one, and I’m helping Kushina to be soldier too. This is a sin I will never be able to wash off. I’m not sure how big the average clan is, but I think the Uzumaki are on the small side. With only thirty-seven members they are a tight knit group, small but incredibly powerful. In the three months I’ve been an honorary kinsman I’ve heard many stories about the fearsome power of the Uzumaki several times over. Amarante, a seventeen year old who keeps her ruby red hair cropped at her chin, has a powerful ninjustsu which can create waterspouts strong enough to sink a small armada and she can keep them spinning close to three hours. Nobuhide, a man in his fifties, once used his chakra chains to subdue a whole castle during the first Shinobi World War. After a week long siege, Nobuhide managed to sneak inside the walls of Tanzaku Gai and while his chakra held the nobles, servants, and samurai immobile a contingent of Konoha and Uzushio-nin walked boldly through the castle gates and slaughtered every living being they came across. Tanzaku Castle and the lands under its domain were incorporated into the Land of Fire, the plunder divided between Uzushio, Konoha, and the Fire Daimyo. The man almost died of chakra exhaustion performing that jutsu. He loves telling that story to Kushina, who is the only one in the clan with chakra dense enough to inherit the technique. It’s disturbing, how these people glorify death. I shouldn’t be as affected or surprised as I am. Tales of battles and heroics were my favorite in my first childhood. I ran around with Eli and Abram, swinging our plastic lightsabers wildly. Completely unaware that we could seriously hurt each other if we were just a little too rough. Fighting for and rescuing the damsel was so completely romanticized within my tiny head that if I had gone through shinobi training at that time...well, I suppose I’d be no different from Kushina. Eager for true stories of reckless heroics and thirsting to prove my skill someday on the battlefield.

Of all the Uzumaki I have met so far Bunta is the meanest. At eighty-four he is the oldest clansman and the most experienced at fuinjutsu, having nine specializations. For two hours every day he trains the Uzumaki children in the art of their clan. Kushina and I are still learning the basics but Kikyo, who is nine and something of a prodigy, has already started to specialize in barrier seals. All Uzumaki are expected to specialize and attain mastery in at least four of the fifteen branches of fuinjutsu but most do not gain enough proficiency in the basics to start specialization until the age of twelve or thirteen. Kikyo is the apple of Bunta’s eye and the one he constantly compares me and the younger Uzumaki to. His criticisms are scathing and would be emotionally scarring for anyone, let alone children. But the Uzumaki are not anyone. They are a shinobi clan that trains their children to kill and die in battle as if it were the height of honor. To the Uzumaki his insults and abuse are yet another way of desensitizing and training their children. After all, if one can learn to ignore the remarks of a bitter old man and still learn the difficult art of fuinjutsu then one can ignore the deadly taunts of enemy ninja without letting loose a trademark Uzumaki temper tantrum, also known as berserker mode. I am not any good at fuinjutsu. Three months of study and I know I will never be a master like Kushina will one day be. I am fine with that. I honestly would rather never learn it at all. I hate everything about fuinjutsu. I hate how complicated and headache inducing it is. I hate how a few scribbles of ink can reduce an entire village to dust or trap a demon inside a child. Or control a human being. In theory I should be good at it. Reading and writing had come easy to me in my other life. I could read at a twelfth grade level in fifth grade. But it is different here. The written characters of the language are so diametrically opposed to what I had known before I often cannot even equate them to words. My child brain is quickly picking up the correct patterns and adapting, but reading, an ability once so natural to me it was almost thoughtless, is still a long ways away for me. But I am determined. Kushina helps me as much as she can when we read storybooks in her room, but she is six years old and barely literate herself. Still, I am learning faster than I might have otherwise. My not-parents and the other servants own very few reading materials, none of which are ideal for my reading level. So while I hate fuinjutsu, I am grateful it has become a medium for me to learn this new language. Which brings me back to my birthday.

Bunta has taken the occasion of my fourth birthday to lecture about the application of the number four in fuinjutsu. In summary: Don’t.

“Only a chakra exhausted imbecile would use the number four in their sealing. It is an unstable number that makes almost any seal useless and liable to kill the sealer. Unless you want to be a meal for the Shinigami you will avoid it at all costs.”

Four is the equivalent of thirteen in this world. A superstitious symbol for death and bad luck. There are two words for four in this language. Yon and Shi. Shi, being a homonym for death, is rarely used making yon more common. In fuinjutsu apparently neither are acceptable. I distantly remember a lecture my crazy religion teacher gave in sixth grade. Four represents the physical body and the Earth, three represents God and Heaven. Seven is representative of perfection and full unity with God. Six, being one short of seven, represents sin and imperfection. Three sixes is a mockery of the number three and God’s Trinity which is why 666 is the devil’s number. I glare darkly at the brush in my hand and the shaky lines on my paper. Of all the useless hullabaloo to remember. Still, I feel an almost overwhelming ache of nostalgia and a tingling in the back of my mind makes me pause on the irrelevant information. Earth and Heaven in balance to create perfection. This concept somehow is significant to this world but I cannot remember why. Something to do with a forest and being a chunin.

A large hand hits my wrist in a loud SMACK! Hard enough to sting and leave a small bruise.

“You have been given the opportunity to learn the secret art of the Uzumaki and you daydream! Do you think your supposed genius will make fuinjutsu easy? What insolence.”

I bow my head. Shame at being caught so easily colors my cheeks.

In the corner of my eye I see Kikyo steadfastly ignoring us, unwilling to openly acknowledge Bunta’s favoritism. The others are watching us, waiting with bated breath for Bunta’s next act of cruelty. But it is Kushina I focus on. Kushina is watching and there is an angry expression on her face. She is reigning in her temper but I know it will explode if Bunta isn’t appeased quickly. I don’t feel it is necessary to apologize for such a small infraction but I know that if I don’t Bunta will punish me for my disrespect.

“I’m sorry Bunta-shishou. It won’t happen again.”

“So you are a liar as well.” _Yes. I am a liar. I have always been a liar, I will always be a liar. Lying is the only thing I can do!_

“No!” I do not like being a liar, but it is easy. Easier than the truth.

“Yes. You’re shoulders tensed before you spoke and there was no emotion in your tone. You are not sorry for your disrespect and you fully plan on dreaming up your own world as soon as I turn my back. Because of your age I have been lenient on your past mistakes but that ends now. Fuinjutsu is a precise art and mastery requires striving for perfection in all areas of life. For the next two weeks you will come to me after evening meal and practice your calligraphy for an hour, then you will assist in performing the evening chores of my household. Perhaps a reminder of how you narrowly escaped the life of a servant will improve your discipline. Do you understand, Nanai-kun?”

If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all. That adage had gotten me in trouble in my last life and I know it will be the same here. My mouth clamps shut and I look Bunta directly in the eye. I want to call him a murderer, an old codger, a _Severus Snape_ , and several more less couth terms. But I stay silent. He is waiting for me to say ‘Yes, I understand. I will be there’. I will not speak those words aloud. Not today. Not to him. I am too angry to spit those words without sounding derisive.

“Do you understand, Nanai-kun?” He tone is much darker now and I wince as Kushina’s temper finally ignites.

“Leave her alone, dattebane! She was just thinking really hard!”

“Your discipline can use some work too, Kushina. Perhaps you should join your friend in her punishment. Perhaps we can have you practice speaking without that annoying verbal tic. It makes you sound like an idiot.”

Kushina’s round, chubby face turns almost as red as her hair. She looks like a tomato.

“I’m not stupid!”

“You must be, since you just misinterpreted what I said.” My heart clenches as they spit fire at each other. It is in no way an equal fight and I can tell his words have truly hurt her. It is my mistake, my fault. Kushina was trying to defend me.

* * *

 

Taijutsu is different from fuinjutsu. Taijutsu is familiar. It is hard, exhausting, and painful. But comforting. In my first life I earned a black belt in tae kwon do when I was eleven. I was good enough to compete in state competitions, though I never did. I regret that now. I regretted that in my last life too. I wrecked my shoulder in practice when I was thirteen and suffered from severe chronic pain for years. I could have continued my training, but by the time I’d recovered enough to go back to martial arts I was a freshman starting high school and more interested in the drama club which was a major time commitment.

Kushina is wildly beating up the wooden post, still angry about this morning’s fuinjutsu practice. I am alternating between the two katas I’ve been taught and the few strength exercises my four year old body can handle.

“It’s no fair! Bunta-shishou’s such a meanie!”

Kushina has finally tired herself out and is lying spread eagle in the grass. She is still furious. It’s plain on her face. I let myself collapse beside Kushina. We lie there in silence, Kushina thumping her feet rhythmically against the ground while I absently pull at the grass under my tiny hands. I wait for her to speak again. It doesn’t take long.

“Why aren’t you super angry, dattebane! He said all those stupid things and he hit you! Why don’t you fight back? You can’t be quiet all the time!”

I stare up into the cloudless sky and think about what I should say.

“I am angry.” I am still staring at the sky but I can hear the girl’s startled gasp at my admission.

“But what do my feelings have to do with anything? Expressing how I feel wouldn’t have changed anything, he would’ve just gotten madder.” There is a rustle as Kushina sits up so she can hover over me.

“So you’re just gonna let him do it? He’s meaner to you than anyone else, ’ttebane.” Kushina pauses, her brow furrows. When she speaks again it is much slower, more careful. “He’s meaner to you than anyone else.”

Kushina’s verbal tic can be annoying, but it is nothing to be ashamed of. And most importantly, it doesn’t hamper her speaking like a stutter or a speech impediment.

“I like your dattebane’s, nee-chan. It means you’re really excited or really care about something. You just gotta be careful with how you talk around people like Bunta-shishou.” Kushina’s stormy blue eyes soften and a grin spreads across her face. She stands up and offers me her hand.

“C’mon, it’s your birthday! We gotta do something fun! Ooh! We could go down to the water!” I suppress a grimace. A six year old and a four year old swimming in the ocean by themselves is just a Bad Idea. I can’t think of anyone who can go with us either. The conflict with Kumo is getting worse and all able hands are busy with the war effort. There are whispers of the war between Uzushio and Kumo turning into a Second Shinobi War, of Kiri making an alliance with Kumo. That Iwa is agitated with Konoha for aiding us with supplies.

“Maybe we can explore the woods. I heard Shotomaru-kun say there’s a secret cave not far from the dunes.”

Kushina’s eyes widen in excitement. She pulls me to my feet and excitedly leads me toward the woods. We spend the rest of the afternoon trying to find the secret cave, to no success, but we have fun picking flowers and braiding them into each other’s hair and eating wild berries and honeysuckle. We travel as far as the bluff overlooking the channel between our little island and the mainland before we need to head back to the main village for dinner. Kushina walks me to the entrance of the servant’s quarters of the main clan building. She hugs me and waves goodbye and then I am alone.

The servant’s quarters are empty, everyone is busy preparing for the communal meal. All the Uzumaki not on missions are expected to have dinner together in the clan hall. This is one clan tradition I do not have to partake in. At least, not all the time. Shoto made it clear that as an honorary clansman he expects me at the evening meal at least twice a week. I trudge to the shared kitchen, hoping to find some rice and maybe a vegetable for dinner but stop in surprise when I see a man standing by the stove.

“Otou-san?” Not-father smiles at me as he stirs the pot he has set himself to watch.

“Welcome home, Emako. Did you have a good birthday?” I nod my head.

“Mmh, Kushina-neechan and I played in the woods. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to celebrate your birthday, silly. I managed to get a few hours off today to be with you. Your kaa-chan got off early too, she should be here soon. Now we can all spend the evening together.” The man looks pleased with himself and I shift my feet awkwardly. I am not used to feeling guilty around my guardians.

“I’m sorry, otou-san. I got in trouble with Bunta-shishou today. He wants me after dinner. I don’t know for how long.” His face drops in disappointed before forming into a serious expression.

“Why did you get in trouble with Bunta-sama?”

“I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have.” Not father kneels in front of me and gently grabs my hands.

“I understand studying is hard but you must try your best to meet expectations. You have been given a great honor and you must make the most of it.” I feel off balance. Honor. Expectations. My real father would never have said these things to me. Not in this manner. But for a moment this man’s rough hands wrapped around my own remind me of long ago. Of Sunday mornings curled up in my daddy’s lap while he reads the paper, looking at the colored comics and trying to win the never ending thumb war between us.

“But he’s so mean!” Tears sting my eyes and I furiously blink them away.

“Ah, yes. Bunta-sama can be a bit mean. But he’s had a hard life and you must do your best to understand that. The shinobi life is a hard one but it is also a better one. So many opportunities are open to you now than if you followed in my or kaa-chan’s footsteps. I have no doubt that as long as you do your best you will be a great kunoichi and lead a good life serving Kushina-hime and Uzushio.”

 _Good, better, best. Always do your best until your good is better and your better is best._ How many times had my father told that to me? Somehow, I understand my not-parents a little bit better now. What parent wouldn’t want their child to live a better life than themselves? I don’t agree with the way it came about, but I understand their consent to the seal now. These not-parents of mine are good, decent, people. And I suppose I could try just a bit harder to please them and make them proud.


End file.
